


First Harrowing

by TheLanternWretch



Category: League of Legends
Genre: AU, Gen, Harrowing, M/M, OC, character children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 08:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16929762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLanternWretch/pseuds/TheLanternWretch
Summary: The unholy offspring of the feared Chain Warden and Shadow of War embarks on his first Harrowing, delighted and excited to prove himself.





	First Harrowing

**Author's Note:**

> Ferdinand... What started off as a joke ended up endearing itself to my writing partner and I. She drew a strange baby that was a amalgamation of Thresh and Hecarim that came to be due to left over bone fragments laying about and ectoplasm from the both of the two specters merging and creating life. Innocent, naive, and sure to grow into an absolute terror, the self-named child, Ferdinand, leapt into our hearts. It wasn't long before fanart rolled in and someone asked me to write a drabble where his first Harrowing goes wrong. So, enjoy a horrible experience through the eye sockets of a small half skeletal ghost horse.

 

It was the usual pandemonium that every Harrowing was; people screaming, animals bellowing, spirits shrieking, children crying… nothing was amiss. In the middle of the swirling mist of darkness was a wobbly-legged little spirit, prancing about as though he were not in the middle of a swirling vortex of death but an amusement park. Ferdinand tried so hard to look at everything happening - people having their torsos clawed open, bodies hitting the floor, the occasional resister firing weapons or swinging something on fire to try and fend off some of the scarier beasts. His little bony fingers curled around the handle of his halberd in excitement as he eagerly trotted in place. Who did he go for first? Who first, who first?! 

It was so overwhelming! “Um! Um, um!” He spun in place, his tail whipping mist as he quickly turned. “um!” There was so much to be done! 

“Here!” A familiar voice caught his attention. He stopped to see one of his fathers, the Warden, walk out of the darkness, holding up a woman under her arms. She was screaming and trying to kick but she clearly wasn’t going anywhere. “Go ahead, give it a shot. Run her through, slash at her neck, whatever you want to do.” And like an owner trying to tempt a dog with a treat, he gave the woman a little wiggle, her limbs flopping uselessly. “Quickly, now!” 

He was thrilled. His aim was careful; he was taught well. With a furious little whinny and and huff, he lunged forward and ran the sharp point at the end of the weapon into her chest, cracking ribs and running through vital organs. “I did it!” He shrieked, bouncing in place, clearly proud of himself as he watched her shudder and fall limp. 

“We celebrate later.” Thresh scolded him. “Retrieve your weapon and keep going. That’s only one soul, we need as many as we can get. Remember?” 

“I remember!” Ferdinand tried pulling the staff free but it was lodged in bone pretty tight. He whined, his little bony arms shaking, his legs dancing around in impatience as it wouldn’t come free.

“How did your Father tell you to fix that?” Thresh asked, dropping the woman’s corpse to the ground where she landed flat on her back. 

“Uhhh, oh! Right!” He slammed his front hooves onto the body and used his own weight as leverage to free the blade. It popped out of the still chest with a sickening squelch as his hooves were soaked with fresh blood. “I got it!” 

“Good boy. Now, keep going. Will you be alright?” Thresh asked, eyeing him carefully.

“Uh-huh! I got one! I can get more, I can get more!” His hind legs kicked in eagerness. 

“Alright. Stay safe; if you get scared, you know where to hide.” Thresh reminded him before disappearing back into the swirling mist. 

Eager to please, Ferdinand barreled off into into the middle of the fray. His blood-lust starting to seep into his very being, he started swinging left and right with his small halberd. He laughed gleefully as people and animals fell to his whim, hitting the ground with their skin torn clean open. From a distance, he saw his other Father bark orders at a group of more sentient ghosts as they flanked a portion of people who thought they were sneaking away from the tangled mess. 

He wanted to be just like him when he was older! He wanted to be just as good as both his papas!! 

But the price he paid for being distracted was horrific. He screeched as he felt something sharp pierce through his bones. He looked down to see the edge of a sword rammed through his ribs, the blackened bones shattered and smoldering on the ground beneath him. Why did this hurt? Other swords didn’t hurt. They were just annoying but this one… this one made him want to cry, if he were capable of tears. He dropped the halberd and frantically scrambled at his chest, trying to pull it out. Whoever had the blade sunk into him cruelly twisted it, forcing the bones to move and snap further. The baby centaur cried out in pain, his legs buckling before he fell. 

His legs curled up as he hugged his arms close to him as the blade was wrenched from his back. The world around him started to fade; he felt the very will to move on disappearing from his bones. He was tired, he was dying, and the worst, he had failed. He rolled his skull to the side, braced for a final strike, looking up into the eyes of someone who had no fear, who knew just what they were doing. Was this one of the purifiers he was warned about? Maybe that’s why he hurt.

He turned away once he saw the blade raise to shatter his skull but it never came. Instead, he saw a flare of violent cyan energy combust near him and the purifier howled, taking off running and holding what was left of his arm. The blade hit the ground with a clatter and was quickly whisked away by an unseen force. What saved him? 

“Shhh.” The voice was soothing, familiar. Ferdinand knew the voice of the Deathsinger - he was a good friend of his. “Shhh, you’re safe. I have you.” A soft hand brushed over his skull reassuringly before running the long thin fingers over the snapped bones. A feeling like fire raced through him and he yelped as the parts of him that were broken regrew, reformed. The icy blue essence that trailed about his bones reignited, growing in strength. “Your Father had injuries like this before many times, and I’ve healed every single one. You are no different.” 

Ferdinand tried to stand the minute he felt better but was pulled into the long, wiry arms protectively. “You did enough. Come; come with me.” The lich’s voice was still soft, reassuring. 

“Did I do good?” He asked hopefully, his voice weak.

“You did very well.” Karthus reassured him, pulling him back into the safety of the mists. “You can hide here with me; we’ll see the end of this Harrowing together. Come along, that’s a good lad.” Once he was safely tucked into the very core of the Mist, the lich straightened himself up and pointed to the small group of purifiers in the distance, fleeing. 

Silently, two forms shot by him like a bullet from a gun. A horse and a rider, a blur of blue and green. Those pesky humans were going to regret the night they hurt what was theirs.


End file.
